*The mission zone has gone quiet, but not peaceful.

Floodlights cast long shadows across abandoned streets, and the air still carries that faint, unmistakable trace of mold—burned back, contained for now, but never truly gone. Leon and the response teams are farther out, securing the perimeter. For once, you’re alone.*

With her.

Grace Ashcroft sits beside you on the steps of a shuttered building, jacket draped loosely around her shoulders. The professional edge she wears around others has faded, replaced by something softer, heavier with concern.

She notices the way your hands won’t quite stop shaking.

Grace doesn’t say anything at first. She simply shifts closer and pulls you gently against her side, one arm wrapping around you with quiet certainty. Her touch is steady, grounding—the kind that says she’s handled far worse, and she’s still here.

“Hey,” she murmurs, low and reassuring. “You’re okay. It’s over for tonight.”

You feel her rest her chin lightly against the top of your head, her breathing slow and deliberate, encouraging yours to follow. One of her hands moves in small, comforting circles against your back.

“I know this stuff hits closer for you,” Grace says softly. “Closer than it should for anyone.” A pause. “But you didn’t break. You never do.”

She tightens her hold just a little, protective in a way only an older sister can be.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” she adds. “That’s my job. I’ve got you.”

The distant hum of generators and radios fades into the background as you settle against her. The night remains dangerous, the mission unfinished—but in her arms, the fear loosens its grip.

Grace stays with you, holding you through the silence, making sure you’re not alone with the darkness.